Do Not Go Gentle Into The Night
by Lexalot
Summary: Some are too fragile to live and too strong to die. (Warning: Slash relationship - ClarkLex)


Do Not Go Gentle Into The Night By: Lexalot

Summary: Some are too fragile to live and too strong to die.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Disclaimer: Since DC wouldn't exist if there were no fans, it's only fair to use our support as credit to take a liberty or two ;)

Spoilers: Extinction (vague)

Inspiration and Reference: Music - Several choral tracks from the LOTR scores, "Dream Piano" from the Twin Falls Idaho soundtrack; Movie - "The Fifth Element"; Title based on the Dylan Thomas poem from which the couplet is taken, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night"

The day had worn against him like the disheveled flannel shirt upon his quivering frame. Time and trauma had made his spirit feel as thin as the old garment, and as the world continued to grate upon his soul, the last vestige of his strength began to slip. It started this morning when he attended his mother's funeral. He had not even noticed if anyone else had been there. The memorial services gave him the impression that the Kansas hills were vacant, and that he now stood very much alone, the universe suddenly becoming a desolate place where hope could not survive. Clark had watched as Martha was laid to rest in the same burial plot as Jonathan Kent. Both his parents were gone from this earth. He had remained here in Smallville only for them the last two years, and eventually, they had passed away, and there was nothing left for him. Everyone else had long since moved to Metropolis, but Clark had never felt happy anywhere but in the hometown he had known all his life, living once again in the house where he had been raised.

Following the trail of mourning through the cemetery, Clark came across another grave, not more than three steps from his parents. The tombstone spelled out her name, and in a way, it spelled out his too. Chloe Sullivan Kent. Beloved wife. And would-have-been mother. Though the engraving was not etched with that last grim fact. The calamitous truth did not have to be written there for all to witness. Clark had it seared in his memory like the mark of Cain upon his heart. She had wanted a child so badly, so desperately. She had convinced him that all would be well, that it was worth the risk. She had died in childbirth. So had the child. Her body was not made to carry a baby of his alien genes. If he had not given into her will and the promise of a picturesque future, she would surely still be alive. Two years in the ground, and he still mourned with every breath for her, as well as for his stillborn attempt at having a family of his own. Now, any remnant of family that he had was but a distant echo on the celestial plane, intangible, inaccessible.

Clark lay in his puny twin bed, above the sheets, lying on his side, his knees curled up to his chest, the occasional tremor shaking the frail and decaying bed frame. His cheek was flushed with the red hue of choked sobs and wet with an incessant flow of tears. Nothing could penetrate his flesh, but he bled profusely on the inside almost without end. By this point, there was not enough blood left in his eviscerated soul to quench his grief. He felt drained of every last drop of kind and optimistic spirit. He had been hollowed out by experience and this shell was all that remained, this treacherous and invincible shell. If he weren't this invulnerable thing, he might have shattered like any normal person this empty. But he was perfectly healthy. Something he could remedy with meteor rock from his own backyard if he had it in him to travel down the stairs to retrieve his one weakness, his chosen poison. But he did not have the audacity much less the might in his own body to expose himself to Kryptonite. He ached for release from his suffering, yet he lacked the conviction to cast himself into the eternal abyss.

Life abused him until every day was like dying, and death did not want him any more than he wanted to die. He imagined he would waste away until his physical form was merely an abandoned vessel. The lights would stay on despite the absence of his consciousness. He would exist and not exist at the same time. The vision was bleak, but he embraced it as he began to cry aloud again. He would mourn for himself and then slip into the nothingness that beckoned him from somewhere he would never feel or think. He saw that as his future, his final destination. It was a consuming void, devouring him from the inside out by the acidic corrosion of despair. After enduring enough of this unbearable agony, after hours, days, weeks spent in this catatonic fashion, he would fade and disappear. Clark Kent would cease to be.

"He has a destiny, Lex, and he cannot achieve it on his own. For as he has power, he has frailty. He is delicate and he needs someone to be a beacon of strength. He needs you, Lex. For he shall not die, and neither shall you. Your devotion to him these long years past has not been in vain. He was sent to you as much as he was sent to the Kents. They have served their purpose, and now your turn has come. It is time you took your place at his side. With you as his guiding star, he will become what he was always meant to be. He will find faith and passion in you. It will renew him and he will rise. Kal-El will become a hero to your world, and you will become one to him. Go to him, Lex. It is as much your destiny as it is his."

That was all Lex could recall of the dream. He remembered that he had been standing in the caves with a man who had introduced himself as Jor-El, Clark's biological father. The images were still so fresh and vivid upon waking that Lex had sworn the rendezvous was real. Urgency bit into Lex's psyche. A sudden compulsion overwhelmed him. He quickly sifted through Smallville news online to discover that Martha Kent, last surviving relation to Clark Kent, had passed away and was to be buried this morning. Without blinking an eye, Lex had called his air transportation to readiness and informed his staff that he would be leaving Metropolis on a matter of important personal business. The panic of emergency claimed Lex's composure and the restless demeanor clung to him all the way to the mansion in Smallville. From there, determination and concern took control. In his old Porsche, he ripped down the asphalt and dirt roads until he was pulling into the driveway of the Kent farm, the wheels tearing up the ground when his vehicle came to an abrupt halt.

As Lex exited the car and marched into the house, he realized he was thoroughly unprepared for this reunion. Although they had not parted on bad terms, their last visit had certainly been awkward enough to keep Lex at bay the last four years. It had been his choice to put significant distance between them, because he believed they would both be better for going their divergent paths. However, fate seemed to have led them both back to the same road after their detours had run their course. After Clark had graduated high school, he had proposed to Chloe. Lex was crushed, and in his sorrow, he had let slip his secret feelings for Clark. Lex's love was not ill received, but it was clear to him that his confession was ill timed. Clark had a wedding to which he had committed his heart and Lex had a company which he had to run after his father had been committed. Curve balls did not just come in curves. They came in twists and spirals, each one leading Clark and Lex away from one another. That is, until now, their winding journeys having led them back to each other.

Making his way up the steps, having found no sign of Clark on the first floor, Lex wished he had not opted to vanish from Clark's life as he had. The two of them had not argued or been at odds. Even Lex and Chloe had retained no hard feelings over the situation. But work and defeat had dammed Lex in a solitary fortress of being. He had allowed himself to be walled up inside, brick by brick. The safe haven that he had built for himself resembled a prison more than a sanctuary. Yet this day had brought all his defenses tumbling down in the wake of his worry, in the wash of his hope. He had hope that he could save something, that he could save Clark as Clark had once saved him, that he could salvage their friendship, that he could rescue them both from darker waters.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused, focusing on a faint sound. Soft whimpers were leaking into the hallway from an open doorway. Clark's bedroom. Lex could not steel himself. He could only take a deep breath and try to withstand the pain that was collecting in his chest. Courage swathed about him, Lex pressed forward into the unknown, into shades of the past. He stopped in front of the open door, peering inside the room. As soon as he saw Clark, somehow everything became clear and unclouded by complication. The man before him had a problem, and Lex was the answer.

The day's fading light shone through the window. The room glowed with orange hues that were in transition to blue, and a draft carried the crisp chill of the air outside into the room through the rotting wood of the windowpane. The boards in the floor creaked with the pressure of weight upon them, and that announced the presence of a visitor. As Clark lifted his head, Lex carefully approached him. There was recognition in Clark's eyes and warmth in Lex's sad smile.

"Clark." His very tone was raw with ache.

"Why do you want to be with me Lex?" Clark's voice was full of cracks, every word broken by infinite melancholy.

His brow furrowed in confusion, Lex froze where he stood, midway from the door to the bed. "What...?"

"Everything I touch, I ruin. Everyone I care about, I hurt... I have nothing to offer anyone but darkness and suffering... but you come here, and I see it in your eyes..." A pang of sharp emotion crept up in Clark's throat, and it erupted into his words as he continued. "How could you still love me that much?" The dry well of Clark's tears grew wet again, and his body shook like a leaf clinging to its branch in autumn's roughest wind.

Without hesitation, Lex rushed to his side, gathering Clark into the comfort of his embrace. Lex had not realized the situation had grown this dire. It was worse than he had feared. "Don't just consign yourself to purgatory like this... You can't give up." He was searching for the strength to lend Clark, but he did not know if Clark had the will left to borrow it. His voice became firm, resolute, reflecting the determination that he was clinging to inside. "Don't you dare even think about giving up on me!"

"I can't keep going. It's too hard..." Clark's very soul shuddered at the notion of having to pick up the pieces of his shattered life again. His weak spirit did not seem capable of persevering any longer. He was a pale, translucent ghost of the person he had once been, and the only thing strong he felt was the body that clutched him with desperation and compassion.

Holding Clark tightly, Lex was on the brink of breaking down himself but he held his suffering back, needing to stay brave for both of them. He whispered softly into Clark's ear. "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." As soon as Lex finished quoting the couplet, Clark pulled back a little and looked up at Lex with glassy eyes that begged Lex to help him. Staring back at Clark with a light glaze to his own eyes, Lex could not restrain himself from brushing stray wisps of Clark's hair to the side. There was one thing that Lex had been convinced would help, a tool of sorts that he had brought with him to state his case in the name of fate. "I came here to show you something." Lex reached into his pants pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He opened it and put it directly into Clark's hand.

There scrawled in lead pencil upon the white page was the letter S snaking its way around inside an outline the shape of a diamond. Clark was perplexed, identifying the image immediately as well as the fact that this representation of it was created by Lex's hand. He studied it, confounded, and then made a similar study of Lex's expression. "Do you have any idea what this is?" Surprise forged that question with no pretense to mar it. Clark did not make the slightest attempt to hide the truth that he was familiar with this symbol and its meaning. He had no energy for deception or evasion anymore.

"No, but I thought you might recognize it. I was hoping you'd tell me what it is."

"This is my family crest." Clark glanced back at the paper, enchanted by the mystery this image encompassed. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in my dream last night. I've been having visions of it for years." Lex managed a small but reassuring smile when Clark's eyes returned to him full of wetness and wonder. "I've drawn that as I've seen it in those visions after every one of them. I probably have a hundred of these little sketches." He reached into his other pocket and pulled out another folded piece of paper. This one was considerably older, tattered, frayed at the edges, yellowed, a worn velveteen texture to it in his hand as he passed it to Clark. "This was the one I did after the first time it happened."

Grasping the paper delicately, Clark admired the crude drawing, observing its simplicity. Despite the design being askew and the color seeming chaotic, it was clearly the same symbol. It just appeared terribly elementary, and then Clark realized why. "This is in crayon. How old were you when you drew this one?"

Meeting Clark's eyes, Lex spoke very deliberately, emphasizing the importance of his answer. "I was five."

"That was before the meteor shower..." Clark shook his head in disbelief, and then stopped, his bewildered shock easing into awed comprehension. "You've known. Even before I got here, you knew."

"I've known we were meant to be together almost my entire life. I told you we had a destiny, remember?" Lex smiled as Clark nodded in affirmation. "And do you remember when we found out I was on Chloe's Wall of Weird list? I realized I hadn't suffered any health problems or illness since I was a child, and that my survival of all the physical damage I've endured could only be the result of a mutation. Well, over the last several years since, my ability has evolved significantly. I accidentally cut my hand on a knife the other day. The cut went deep into my palm, but it healed in seconds." He held his hand out, opening it to illustrate his point to Clark, and when Clark examined it, he saw no trace of a wound, not even a scar. Clark gaped at Lex, and Lex merely smiled in return. Then, Lex's expression became solemn and his voice flooded with the strength he had lacked only a few moments ago. "I won't die on you, Clark. I was made for you." Every word resounded with faith behind it. Lex believed all that he was saying as much as he believed that this was the way it was always meant to be. "I'm not going anywhere."

Clark's eyes welled, but now for something other than emotional duress, now for something so heart-wrenchingly incredible if it was true. Clark saw the promise in Lex's eyes, a promise of happiness and of a future separate from this darkness, far away from haunted and hollow places, a promise of great things that were predestined to be for him. There was a radiance to Lex that Clark had never noticed before, but now it was like the brightest star in the night sky. Clark caught himself thinking that Lex was so beautiful, and that Lex's presence here at Clark's darkest hour seemed angelic, like divine intervention. There was so much affection beaming upon Lex's face that its luminescence touched Clark in a way that he had not been moved by anything in his entire life. Suddenly, it occurred to Clark that he was gawking at Lex in pure overwhelm, and Clark did not want to offend Lex in his gaping silence. "I don't mean to stare at you like you're a freak. I just never imagined that I could see you the way I do right now."

Lex simply shook his head, shaking off Clark's unnecessary concern. "You've never stared at me like I was a freak, Clark." He gulped down a thick wave of intoxicating emotion that washed over him as he absorbed the tangible implications of what Clark had said. "Go ahead and look." Loving serenity engulfed him as he welcomed Clark's scrutiny. "To you, I'm the alien."

Clark's eyes glistened, sparkling with tears and hope. What Lex said sounded so true, and it had never occurred to him to think of it that way before. He didn't suppose it had ever occurred to anyone else to see it that way either. No one except Lex. With that sentiment still ripe and blossoming in the air, Clark felt for the first time that someone truly understood, that someone was truly his soul mate, that he had found someone who was really the other half of himself. Quickly, Clark crushed his mouth against Lex's, passion igniting the instant of contact. The kiss became deeper and sweeter, every tactile sensation a taste of paradise stemming from the heart. The kiss swallowed them both whole until Clark gently broke it.

Watching Clark intently, Lex relaxed, still swooning and breathless. He followed Clark's movements as Clark unbuttoned Lex's shirt, pushing it open to reveal the skin underneath. Clark simply soaked up the sight, and then proceeded to remove the shirt completely, slipping it down over Lex's arms until it was off him. After that, Clark drank him in again, as if Lex were a vision to behold. There was something so surreal about this, peaceful and tender and heartwarmingly innocent. It was better than any dream Lex had ever dreamt.

Urging Lex to lie back with some subtle coaxing, Clark eyed Lex as he complied. As soon as Lex was fully spread out upon the bed, Clark undid Lex's slacks and removed them along with the last pieces of Lex's wardrobe until Lex was left only with his silk boxers. Boldly, Clark dragged them down Lex's smooth legs as he watched Lex's engorged member spring forth. Clark's eyes lingered on the naked body before him, and then he began to strip his own clothes off in the same manner. He lifted his shirt over his head and pulled off his pants, discarding them both as he stood in nothing more than his white boxer briefs. Clark stared at Lex for another moment, basking in the warm light of love that gleamed in Lex's eyes just for him. Clark peeled his boxer briefs down until they fell to the floor, and finally he was just as bare as Lex.

Clark crawled into the bed, pulling the sheets up over them as he nuzzled against Lex. His arms closing around Clark, Lex planted his lips upon Clark's temple, and then he brushed his cheek into the tousled curls that rested against the side of his face. They held each other, nothing between them, wrapped together in cotton and destiny. The room was doused in a tranquil shade of muted blue, and shadows spread beyond the corners to obscure larger territory. But the space that had been a wasteland of echoes was now filled by the sound of two hearts beating in unison. The fire inside Clark had nearly extinguished, but embers that were rekindling in the ashes foretold of a dawn on the horizon. The sun had set, but it would rise again tomorrow. 


End file.
